


Interlude in Oils

by Tokyo Shapiro (Hotshoe)



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Humor, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotshoe/pseuds/Tokyo%20Shapiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yohji needs a model, Omi needs revenge and Ken needs a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude in Oils

Yohji’s room was off limits. The only reason he would brook an interruption, Yohji told his teammates cryptically, was if Birman or Manx showed up with a mission. 

“We’re not going to bother you when you’ve got a girl in your room, Yo-tan,” Ken replied flippantly as he rummaged about in the refrigerator for something to drink. “Give us some freaking credit, huh?” He had just returned from the park and a pick-up soccer game. His shirt was ripped away in the front, exposing a fair amount of sweaty, dirty abdomen, indicating that his first stop should have been the shower and not the kitchen. He popped the top on a can of beer and then took a long drink, leaning back against the refrigerator door with the torn tail of his mesh soccer jersey dangling from his back and past his butt.

Yohji didn’t reply. He just smiled mysteriously while he looked the young athlete over. His stomach was tight and the muscle definition there was such that one could almost call them chiseled. He also cataloged other aspects of Ken’s appearance: his strong legs, powerful shoulders, and even the way his lank, dripping hair clung to his forehead and neck. He did all this with a practiced eye from behind a veil of cigarette smoke and chutzpah.

“And if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you just bang away at her place?” Omi asked. His words were uncharacteristically crude, drawing a look from both Ken and Aya who happened to be passing through on his way out. Omi had schooled his face to be cool and unreadable. Yohji quirked up an eyebrow at him. 

“Bang? Is that the best you can do? I know those magazines have stronger language than that, Omi-chan. Aren’t you studying hard enough?”

The magazines he referred to had been unearthed from a box in Omi’s closet while Yohji had been searching for old car part catalogs. They were tattered, obviously well-used either by Omi or by whoever had passed them on to the youngest member of Weiss. They were pretty much standard masturbation fare: lots of hotties showing off their tits, spreading their legs and even a little bit of girl on girl action. In uninhibited Yohji fashion, he had gleefully taken them down to the living area and dropped them on the table for the amusement of anyone who wanted a peek. He never said that they were from Omi’s closet, but the boy’s reaction had removed all doubt. He avoided them like they were covered in some kind of virulent germs, and his cheeks went apple red whenever he locked stares with Yohji. He never copped to it, though. Instead he waited until Ken and Yohji had finished looking at them all, several times--Aya had merely rolled his eyes and ignored them--and then snuck them into the trash when no one was around. However, it seemed that the breach of his privacy was not going to be overlooked.

Ever since, Omi had fired off verbal shots at Yohji, but it was quite apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to out-brazen this self-acknowledged playboy.

In a strangely inflectionless voice, Omi started to reply, “Oh, so you want me to use the—“

“The only reason Yohji is making a big deal out of this,” Aya interrupted smoothly, “is so we’re all painfully aware that he’s getting laid, and we’re not.”

Yohji grinned. “Now that you mention it, what’s wrong with you guys anyway?”  
+++++++

Ken had tucked a towel around his waist, and was heading back to his room with another towel over his head and a bundle of dirty clothes under his arm, when he heard something overhead. The scraping sound stopped suddenly and a thick silence enveloped the hallway as Ken stood outside Yohji’s door and listened, head cocked slightly, eyes on the ceiling above. When the silence dragged on, Ken padded quietly down to his room and then opened and closed his door. Then he snuck quickly back to Yohji’s door just in time to hear the faintest sounds of movement. A tiny bump, a slither, another bump, and then a rattle like…like brittle plastic? He could have guessed mice or squirrels, but those possibilities never entered the competition. These sounds were too deliberate. The noises were getting farther away, and Ken followed them, realizing that they were leading him closer to his own room. No, he thought, to Omi’s room across the hall! He stopped just outside Omi’s room, getting as close to the door as he could. He could hear some shuffling and then the sound of something hitting the floor inside. 

“What are you doing?”

Ken jumped, dropping his clothes and assuming a defensive posture instinctively. 

“Easy boy, easy!” Yohji put his hands up in mock surrender. “What? Is there something going on in there? Lots of heavy breathing maybe?”

“Geez, Yohji! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, you did look pretty preoccupied there.”

Ken bent down to grab his clothes, and as he straightened up, he noticed that Yohji was giving him the once over. He looked down to make sure nothing was showing, then back up at Yohji. “What?!”

Yohji smiled in a disturbingly friendly way. “You really keep in good shape, don’t you?”

Ken felt an involuntary shiver run down his back and goosebumps spring up on his arms. He pushed past Yohji, headed for the sanctuary of his room. “Fer crying out loud, Yohji, quit it! You’re giving me the creeps.” Just before he shut the door behind him, he heard Yohji chuckling to himself.  
“Mmm mmm mmm. I can’t believe I’m the only one who gets laid around here.”  
+++++

Yohji disappeared later on his mysterious ‘date’ and Ken hopped on his bike to go get some food. He knocked on Omi’s door beforehand, asking if Omi wanted anything. 

“Sure! Whatever you get is fine! Call me down when you get back.”

He drove a little further than he normally would have because he knew that Omi liked hamburgers and fries, and Ken’s empty stomach insured that he bought more than they could probably eat in one sitting. On his way back, he stopped at a convenience store and bought four frozen milkshakes. With a bag of hot food inside his jacket and the bag of shakes nestled icily against his crotch, he rode home.  
Omi really liked milkshakes and Ken wanted to do something nice for him. Yohji had been merciless lately, what with the magazine prank and all. Ken thought that by looking at the magazines, he and Yohji were letting Omi know that it was okay to like them, to have them around. But apparently the teenager had been too mortified to notice. 

Maybe, Ken thought, I should talk to him about it. The idea of talking to Omi about the birds and the bees was a little awkward for him, though, and he was afraid that if he attempted it, his nervousness would just make Omi more embarrassed than ever. Still he remembered when he was younger, he’d had a friend who’d prodded and teased and talked him out of being so hung up about his emerging desires. Mostly it was through good old sexist jokes and lustful talk about girls, but it was the kind of male camaraderie that made him realize that he wasn’t the only one in the world who thought those thoughts or did those things. Those had been good days, back when Kase had been…well…good.

His thoughts were taking a somber turn and Ken pushed them to the back of his mind, and he found it was getting easier to do that. He missed his old friend. He wondered if Omi thought of him like that, like a friend.

Ken parked his bike and was just going in the back entrance to the shop.

Aya was just leaving.

“Oi, Aya, I got you a milkshake.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a few hours. Put it in the freezer?”

“Sure!” He stuck two of the shakes in the freezer and then headed up the stairs with the rest of the food. He discarded the idea of calling Omi down. If he did get a chance to talk about Yohji’s prank, and he did have half a mind to, it would be better to have privacy.

“I’m back,” he announced as he opened Omi’s door.

Whatever Omi had been doing with his computer, he didn’t have time to conceal it before Ken could see the screen. Omi was a guru and one keystroke had a screensaver up and running before it could quite register with Ken that he’d been looking at an overhead view of a room.

“Ah! Ken-kun, don’t you knock?”

Ken suddenly remembered the noises in the ceiling and then his eyes flicked upward. He saw that the trap door to the attic overhead was slightly off center and a couple of wires were dangling down, ending in a tangled mess of spaghetti behind Omi’s computer.

“You were in the attic today!”

Omi’s cheeks went quite crimson, but his eyes met Ken’s boldly. “You’ve got to promise to keep this a secret.”

Ken set the bags down on Omi’s table. “That depends. You better tell me what’s going on first. Was that…” His mind was setting the pieces into place as he spoke. “…Yohji’s room on your computer?”

Omi nodded. 

“You’re going to get even, aren’t you?”

Blushing furiously, Omi nodded again.

“Okay,” Ken agreed easily. “So let’s eat before the food gets cold.” 

Omi sagged a bit in relief that he wasn’t going to be ratted out. He sat down at the little table and lit into the burgers like a man who’d gone a week without. 

After a few bites to take the edge off, Ken said, “You know, even though Yohji made a big deal out of it, it’s pretty normal to like looking at those magazines.” He paused as Omi stopped chewing and looked up at him tentatively. “I’ve got a couple, too.”

Omi swallowed. “I…I know that.”  
Ken’s eyebrows shot up.  
Omi gasped. “No, I didn’t know that! What I meant was that I know that other guys do it—look at them. But it’s not like I went out looking for them. I never even meant to have them. A buddy from school stole them from his older brother and split the goods with me. Once I had ‘em, well, I kept them. But that’s not the point. Yohji went through my stuff. It’s bad enough that he…saw them, but he took them downstairs. That was uncalled for. Now every time I’m up here, everyone’ll think I’m just…you know…”  
Ken snorted. “Trust me, Omi, we’re all too busy ’you know-ing’ ourselves to worry about whether you are or not.”  
Omi’s mouth gaped. “Ken-kun!”  
“So what? I’m not shy about it. I’ve got to at least once a day or I can’t think straight.” He grinned at the younger teen.  
After chewing thoughtfully on his food for a moment, Omi tried to sound casual as he asked, “Would it seem pervy to you if someone had to do it a couple times a day?”  
“Not if that person had a magazine like the one with the two girls doing it.”  
Omi’s eyes got so wide that Ken couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Hey, c’mon, that made me horny as hell. I think it was Yohji’s favorite, too.”  
“Yohji has probably done that, had two girls.” Omi reconsidered. “Or would like us to think that.”

“Sometimes Yohji is just, I don’t know, too far ahead of the rest of us.” Ken thought about it further as he munched on fries. “Maybe when we catch up to him in that department, it won’t seem like such a big deal, you know?”

“Catch up?”

“You know, as soon as we start getting laid as much as he does.”

“That’s the thing, Ken-kun,” Omi said. “How do we know he really gets laid all that much?”

Ken waved to the computer. “Is that what the surveillance is all about? What have you got there, a vid-cam?”

“Yes, and audio. The whole point is to prove who should not be trifled with when it comes to invading another’s privacy.”

After a moment to finish his food and consider this, during which time Omi waited for approval, Ken said, “Okay. As long as the joke stays here in the house. I don’t want to up the stakes and have this get out of hand.”

Omi nodded, happily.

“And if this turns out to be really, really embarrassing for Yohji, we’ll keep it between you and him. He won’t need to know that anyone but you knows about it.”  
“But he showed the magazines to you and Aya,” Omi pointed out. His voice had acquired that logical tone he used when he was laying out mission plans. “And besides, Ken-kun, how embarrassing can it really be? This is Yohji, after all. What would really embarrass him?”  
“You have a point.” He got up, taking his milkshake with him and walked over to the computer. He thought that since he was now a co-conspirator, he might as well get in on the action. “So I guess the show starts when Yohji comes back with his date, huh?”

“Yes, but it might be a bust.”

“Why?”

“Well, look at this.” Omi plopped back into the ergo chair in front of his computer and typed in a password to remove the screensaver. The view of Yohji’s room was excellent, and Ken saw that Omi had outdone himself as the view began to rotate. Using the mouse, Omi guided the camera lens to the corner of Yohji’s room where his couch sat under the windows. The couch appeared to have been draped with some shiny fabric like silk, and was punctuated with large, soft, colored pillows in various colors.

“Some love nest, huh?” Ken observed. “But wouldn’t the bed be more…umm…roomy?”

“That’s what I thought, too, until I saw this…”

The view moved again to the opposite corner where Ken could see that there was an easel set up, along with a table and various tools of a painter’s trade.

Ken gawked. “He’s painting them?”

“Yes. I did some digging and found out that Yohji studied art history in university, but I didn’t know that he was an artist, too. This might end up being pretty boring,” Omi sighed.

“Unless they pose in the nude!”

“Do you really think they would?”

“Did you see the way he’s got the couch set up? This is Yohji we’re talking about. I think there’s a good chance.”

Though he appeared brightened at the prospect of a nude model, Omi was still clearly focused on his original mission. “That really won’t be too embarrassing to Yohji, though. And I don’t want to violate some woman’s privacy.”

“That’s very noble of you, Omi-kun,” Ken said, grinning and laying a friendly hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “But I, however, am not that noble. And I’d rather see a pretty naked girl, than a pretty naked girl with an equally naked, but not so pretty Yohji doing unspeakably nasty, evil things to her.” He paused. “Do we need some popcorn?”

Omi ducked his head, both trying not to laugh or to show how shocked he was by Ken’s boldness.  
+++++

All in all, it had been tougher to get a model for his painting than to find a warm bed for the night. Yohji learned quickly that the words of love and desire would get you far with a woman. You could make her melt and love you like you were the man of her dreams. She would take you home and into her bed, and do incredibly sexy and even perverse things with you during an act of love.

But there was no way to fabricate or lie or puff up an invitation to pose nude. Yohji couldn’t practice his fine art of seduction on a woman and then turn the table and ask her to take off her clothes for no other reason than to paint her. 

There were always agencies that could provide a model for hire, but Yohji knew from his detective days that anyone who hired a model through an agency was required to undergo a background check. He had done a few. These days, Yohji wouldn’t pass muster. He didn’t even exist.

And yet, if there was one thing that could be said about Kudoh Yohji, it was that he was persistent, and persuasive. Well, Yohji smiled inwardly, that was really two things. 

The girl he had found was a nicely rounded type. She had average sized breasts and a nice round bottom, and she was reasonably pretty. Her looks really didn’t matter since Yohji planned to enhance his painting to conceal her real identity. However, when she viewed it, she would see an angel, and think that was how she appeared to Yohji in real life.  
She was a friend of a friend and Yohji had found her by asking around for a girl who was fun-loving, uninhibited and pretty out-there sexually. Her friend had vouched for Yohji, and the girl had also let Yohji show her a good time with a few drinks and some dancing. As the time passed, Yohji got the idea that she looked on this little adventure as foreplay and he was pleasantly anticipating a little fun after the painting.  
With a companionable hand on the small of her back, Yohji led her up the outside stairs to his door. Once inside, he took her jacket and then offered her something to drink. She declined, looking at the couch and the two lamp stands that were aimed at it.  
“The lamps will help me place the shadows, but they’re also warm.” He moved close and smiled down at her. “Want to see some of my other work?”  
She looked at him in disbelief. “You really do paint?”  
+++++  
In Omi’s room, Ken had pulled one of the chairs from the table and sidled up next to Omi. Omi had turned the volume down so that they could hear the audio feed, but still hear when Aya returned to his room. They watched as Yohji pulled canvases from the bottom of his wardrobe. Omi guided the camera for the best view and they were amazed to see that Yohji had indeed been painting. He showed the woman one painting that they recognized immediately as Super Seven. There were several others that he showed her, but they could tell that there were many more that he never removed from the cabinet.  
“You’re really good!” she marveled, going back to one still life.  
“I’m working on people now, and you’re really just the type I wanted. You have a beautiful figure.” He set down the last painting and took her hand. “Are you nervous?”  
Her reply wasn’t audible, but she laughed and Yohji pulled her into his arms and lifted her off the floor. “You and I are gonna get along just fine,” he chuckled. “And when I’ve worked my way through every exercise, I’ll give you the painting, okay?”  
“You will?”  
“Sure. I don’t want you to worry about where it might end up.”  
“Cool! Could you include some teal in the colors?”  
“Teal?”  
“Yeah, some blue green, like turquoise, you know? Then it’ll go with the rest of the colors in my apartment.”  
Yohji let her go, admonishing playfully, “An artist can’t be confined to certain colors. The colors have to speak to me…but for you, I can manage some teal.”  
“Let’s get started then,” she giggled.  
Unconsciously, Omi and Ken leaned forward as the woman declined to use the screen and began to undress. Yohji had disappeared from the camera-view, presumably to attend to his easel. It was amusing for about fifteen minutes as they watched Yohji position his nude model upon the couch. He used light touches to her arms and below her knees to pose her. He draped a black lace shawl over her shoulders, and letting it hang from her arm. It did nothing to cover her firm, white breasts, though, and Ken’s gaze traveled hungrily over her hips and thighs.  
He and Omi leaned closer to hear as Yohji spoke softly.  
“Are you comfortable? Can you stay in this position for a couple hours?”  
She nodded.  
“You look beautiful.”  
“Thank you,” she giggled, moving a little and one half of the shawl slipped down over her left breast. Yohji moved in close again.  
“Oh no. Can’t have that.” He pulled the lace to one side, tucking it next to her soft flesh. “I love your tits.”  
“As an artist, shouldn’t you say ‘breasts’ instead?” she teased, her voice coy.  
“Absolutely! An artist must remain professional and impassive about the human body.” Yohji moved out of the camera’s view again.  
“Do you want my nipples to be hard? I can make them hard…”  
Ken and Omi leaned in close in anticipation.  
“No, they’re fine.”  
Ken heard Omi exhale in disappointment as they both sat back.  
But then it was like watching a picture. The woman stayed remarkably still and Ken found his interest waning. Omi was disappointed.  
“At least we know that he’s not getting as much as he wants us all to believe,” Omi remarked, leaning back.  
“That’s right,” Ken agreed glumly. “But he still has a naked girl in his room.”  
“Hey, I’ve got a beta download of Extreme Soccer,” Omi said. “Wanna play?  
+++++  
Three hours later, Ken slipped quietly into his room, locking his door behind him. With a sigh of relief, he cupped his crotch and rubbed slowly. “Damn you, Yohji!” he murmured. Stripping off his clothes and crawling into bed, he flopped over on the futon without covering up, his body tense and eager. He ran his hands over his chest and down his stomach, even sliding them down to his inner thighs. Raising his head, he looked down to his aroused penis. He sucked in a breath and reached for it.  
He and Omi had left the audio on while playing video soccer. Sometime during their game, they heard Aya come up the stairs and walk quietly toward his room. Another hour and they had almost forgotten about Yohji altogether. But when they heard Yohji’s voice, Omi switched over to the vid-cam again.  
“You’re making it hard to stay impassive here…” Yohji sounded amused.  
The girl giggled and let her knees fall a little further apart. “Guess I’m a little tired of just one position.”  
“I like some variety myself.”  
After some suggestive banter, Yohji appeared in the camera’s view again. He knelt down next to the couch and leaned in to kiss her. Ken and Omi watched, amazement and anticipation blossoming within their breasts as she reached for Yohji, pushing at his shirt. Without losing contact with her mouth, Yohji slipped off his shirt and his hands then disappeared in front of him, the motions of his elbows indicating that he was undoing his belt and fly.  
Omi whispered, “I think he’s gonna…”  
“Geez!” Ken breathed.

The action quickly grew more graphic than Ken had expected. He felt his penis swell with arousal at the sight of Yohji’s head between the woman’s thighs, moving in purposeful, mysterious ways. His hands were always in motion and they looked dark, splayed over her creamy skin.  
Ken could hear Omi’s breathing intensify.  
Yohji rose and moved to the end of the couch where he presented an impressive hard-on for a blow job.  
Ken glanced sidelong at Omi. His cheeks were red, but his gaze was riveted to the screen. A movement in Omi’s lap caught Ken’s attention. Omi was trying to hide his growing excitement with his hand. Ken was wearing jeans which concealed his erection, but constricted him uncomfortably at the same time.

By the time Yohji was slouched on the couch and the woman had straddled his hips, Ken knew he was gonna need some alone time. Yohji had one hand on her hip and the other fondling her breast. She slid up and down, up and down, head back, breasts bouncing. She made a stifled, groaning sound, and Yohji’s hips were straining below her.  
That was it. Emboldened by the shared conspiracy and the new frankness between them, Ken pushed his chair back and stood up. “What a bust! So much for Yohji making up stories about fucking every girl he brings home.”  
Omi looked up, flushed and glassy-eyed. He now had two hands covering up the bulge in his shorts.  
“I’ll be going to my room to wank off now,” Ken grinned.

Omi paused, smiled sheepishly and said, “Thank god!”

Ten minutes later, Ken was still stroking his hot flesh, approaching a climax that promised to be extra potent due to the fresh images that were flashing on the back of his eyelids. It had been strange to see Yohji’s stiff cock, but exciting to watch as his new girlfriend had taken it into her mouth. Ken’s mind played over the way it looked as his teammate had fucked her, his butt clenching with each thrust, his hand alternately caressing and squeezing her breast.  
Then there was Omi trying to hide his arousal.  
Should have told him it was okay… no need to be ashamed…maybe I should have…like with Kase that time…  
No doubt Omi was across the hall jerking off right now, too. 

Ken bit back a moan as he thrust into his fist a final time and hot semen spurted onto his stomach and chest.  
+++++

Secrets. Ken was finding it enjoyable to have one, but difficult not to give it away. Each time he saw Omi, they would smirk at each other, and then glance at Yohji if he happened to be nearby. It was a bond between them that extended beyond the normal range of their professional relationship. Made them buddies. 

But there were times that Ken was sure Yohji knew or suspected something. He would stare at Ken, sometimes quite intensely, as if he was suspicious and could read the duplicity on Ken’s normally expressive face.  
Sometimes it took Ken by surprise. He was exiting the bathroom several days later, and, as if he was lying in wait, Yohji stepped out into the hallway and blocked Ken’s progress. Ken glanced up, bit back on a spontaneous snicker, and then stopped short as Yohji stepped into his path.  
“What is so funny?” Yohji demanded in his easy-going way.  
Ken shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”  
“Huh.”  
Yohji then did that ‘thing’ he’d been doing lately, scrutinizing Ken. Studying him like a starving man reads a menu. Ken felt goosebumps spring up on his bare arms and chest. Yohji’s eyes traveled unabashedly down to his stomach and the waistband of his jeans. Ken got the odd urge to check if he’d forgotten to zip up.  
“You know, Ken-kun,” Yohji said earnestly, “as far as guys go, you are really good looking.”  
Ken shrank back. “Yohji! What the hell! Are you drunk?”  
The older man smiled. “Oi, don’t take this wrong. But I really need a good looking, physically fit guy to do me a huge favor.”  
Ken yelped. “Oh no you don’t” He tried to dodge past Yohji, but the other man planted himself in the center of the hall. “Do I need to call for help? I’m gonna call Aya!”  
“Why? Can’t you even take a compliment?”  
“Not those kind. Not from you.”  
Yohji laughed. “Don’t worry! I’m only looking for a model.”  
Ken was stunned and had trouble switching tracks. “M-m-model?”  
“Yeah. Hey, come to my room and I’ll show you.” He made a grab for Ken’s arm, which Ken dodged.  
“Oh no. I don’t think so.” He pushed past Yohji and got to his room. He realized that Yohji was right on his heels. “You can show me right here…with the door open,” he added quickly. It was starting to make sense to Ken, but it was so totally disconcerting to have Yohji working his seduction on him this way. Didn’t the man have any other approach? Like just coming out and asking?  
Yohji rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Okay. Just wait right here.” He disappeared down the hall to his room. In a few minutes, he came back with his arms full of canvas. He dropped them flat on Ken’s futon. “Take a look.”  
“Oh…” Ken started lifting the canvases one by one, stopping at one familiar one in particular. The Super Seven. “Nice!”  
“Yeah, that’s my favorite so far.” He leaned over and pulled out the last one. He proffered the one of the girl he had seduced on Omi’s digital camera.  
“Holy shit,” Ken said, trying to sound surprised.  
“That’s why I didn’t want anyone bugging me in my room a couple weeks ago.”  
“Holy shit,” Ken said again. It was beginning to sink in just what Yohji was asking of him. “You want me to…” He really couldn’t actually say it. Instead he weakly nodded at the painting.  
“I know it’s kind of embarrassing, but it’s really important that I do a guy now.”  
Ken flinched. “Do you have to put it like that?”  
“I’ll put it any way you like, Ken-kun,” Yohji said in a low, sultry tone.  
Panic started to rise up in Ken’s chest and it must have showed because Yohji laughed.  
“No, really, Ken. Who on earth can I ask? Can you picture Aya? And Omi’s still ticked off at me. Besides which, he’s too young. It’d be like corrupting a minor.”  
“Omi’s an assassin, Yohji!”  
“But he’s such a young assassin!” Yohji widened his eyes and pleaded, “C’mon, Ken, say you’ll do it. You’d be perfect for this.”  
Man, he’s good, Ken thought irritably. “I don’t know Yohji. Would I have to be naked?”  
“Well, that’s the whole point of the human body, to paint it just like it is. No labels, no façade, just painting the unvarnished truth of a woman or a man.” When Ken still hesitated, Yohji held up one finger. “Just one sec!” He darted back down the hall to his room.  
Ken glanced down at the nude woman and tried to imagine lying naked on a couch for hours while Yohji painted him. I’m not embarrassed by my own body, he thought. And it’s not like Yohji’s comments lately mean anything other than a rather confusing attempt to get me to pose for a painting. It’s just his way that makes it sound like he’s hitting on me.  
Yohji returned with another canvas and a huge grin plastered across his face. He offered it to Ken.  
Ken took it almost reverently. It was full of vibrant primary colors and recognizable decals on superbikes as they leaned into a turn. The lines were distinct, but rough and shaped by the perceived speed.  
He looked up at Yohji, his mouth open, but unable to emit any words that could possibly do the painting justice.  
“It’s for you!”  
“Yohji….”  
“I was going to wait till your birthday or something…but who the hell knows when that is.”  
Yohji was grinning in such a endearing kind of way, Ken could actually feel himself get sucked down the drain of capitulation. “Awww Yohji!” He shook his head in resignation. “No wonder you get laid more than the rest of us.”  
“It’s a gift.”  
Ken gave him jaundiced look.  
“The painting, too.” Yohji shrugged. “You don’t have to help me, Ken. But I would be in your debt.”  
Hanging his head as the blood crept quickly into his cheeks. “When?” was all he could manage to say.  
“Anytime! It’ll take a couple of sittings.”  
Ken knew that this blush was going to stay burned into his cheeks for hours. He knew exactly how many sittings it would take, and he wondered if he should have asked so Yohji wouldn’t wonder why he didn’t ask. “This will be just between us, right?”  
“Sure. Hey, no problem.”  
Ken’s eyes flicked back to the familiar painting of the nude woman and he realized that there was another big problem with this that Yohji could never find out about. “And not here. I’d rather not do this in your room.”  
“I’ll find another place.” Yohji beamed happily. “Thanks, Ken. I won’t forget this!”  
Ken was afraid that he would never forget it either.  
+++++  
It was almost two weeks before Yohji mentioned it again. Ken was beginning to think that he might have imagined the whole surreal conversation until each time he saw the superbike painting in his room. But still, when days passed and no further mention was made, he was beginning to think that maybe it wouldn’t happen, that it hadn’t been as important as Yohji had made it out to be.  
And that was a modicum of relief for Ken. He lay in his bed at night, a time when he was usually able to stroke his rigid flesh to satisfying completion, but now he was too full of nervous anticipation to achieve an erection. It was all he could think about, that he would be naked, and portrayed as an object of…what, he wondered, beauty? Lust? He kept remembering the woman’s painting. She’d been naked, but the painting hadn’t been erotic. In the painting, she looked beautiful, even more beautiful than in real life. And serene, perhaps a little smug. It was like Yohji took her real human beauty and gave it an ethereal quality. He pulled her spirit out and painted it instead of her physical body.  
What would he do to Ken? Would he magnify his good features into something more…strong, more…male? How do you pose a naked man to bring that out?  
And while the woman’s painting wasn’t blatantly erotic, the action afterward had been. But even when Ken tried to use those memories to feed his carnal urges, he failed because his traitorous mind would remind him that it would soon be him on the couch.  
But Ken’s reprieve ended on a Wednesday morning as he finished unloading a delivery of potting soil and fertilizer. He had just heaved the last 50 pound bag onto a pallet in the back room when he turned to find Yohji standing behind him.  
“Yeah?” he asked.  
“I rented a studio over the Ten Wonton three blocks down.” Yohji dropped a key into Ken’s hand. “I’ll meet you there after work tonight, okay?” He walked away nonchalantly.  
Ken watched him go, dumb-founded. It felt suddenly as if ice-water flooded his bowels.  
+++++  
That night, Ken stood behind the Ten Wonton and looked up the fire escape that climbed to the second floor entrance. He was wearing a long coat and dark glasses. He felt slightly flushed with the two shots of whiskey he’d slugged before leaving his room. He climbed the stairs reluctantly and paused before fitting the key to the lock, but the occasional traffic passing behind the other businesses was more unnerving than what waited beyond, so he quickly unlocked the door to the studio and went inside.  
Yohji was there already, moving one of the lightstands into place. He looked up as Ken quickly shut the door behind him and threw the deadbolt to lock it. “Busy place tonight,” he said.  
Yohji chuckled. “Are you really in disguise?”  
Ken frowned, but removed the glasses and the coat. “No, but it’s cold out tonight.”  
“And the streetlamps are really bright, too,” Yohji laughed. “Don’t be nervous, Ken. You can even take a nap while I paint.”  
“I don’t think that’s likely,” Ken muttered as he watched Yohji turn on the lamp and adjust the direction of its beam.  
Standing away from the lamp, Yohji looked at Ken. “That’s all I can do till you’re on the futon. I’m all set, so you can just get undressed now.”  
Ken froze. There was a wooden platform, on top of which lay a thick mattress, the same fabrics that Yohji had used on his couch for his last model. Ken wondered briefly if they’d been washed. He camouflaged his inability to move by asking, “Uh, the girl got a couch…”  
Yohji waved a hand around the room. “No couch.” He was stating the obvious; there was no other furniture in the room at all save a chair and the futon. “It’s okay, I have a theme in mind.”  
“When you’re done, what’s going to happen to the painting?”  
“A couple of professors, maybe a few students will look over my whole project and then they give the paintings back to me. I’ll let you do whatever you want with yours.”  
“I could burn it?”  
A strange look crossed Yohji’s face. “Well, I guess that’s about the most honest critique I’ll ever get. But yeah, you can burn it.”  
Realizing what it had sounded like, Ken regretted having asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that your paintings aren’t good. I think they’re great, really.”  
Yohji shrugged. “It’s okay. I understand. But who knows,” he gave Ken a wink, “you might really like what you see. I know I do. As an artist, that is.”  
Ken was wondering if he should have had those drinks after all, because it sounded like Yohji was nervous, too. He moved over to the only chair in the room and started taking off his clothes. He was down to his underwear before he stopped and glanced over at Yohji, but the other man was turned away and squeezing paint from tubes onto a palette. So he slid off his briefs and walked around behind Yohji and toward the pedestal. He stood there waiting.  
Yohji looked up. Ken saw his eyes flick downward, but just as quickly, he averted his gaze. “Umm,” Ken said, “How do you want me?” The words just hung there. Even Yohji went red. But like Ken’s equipment, the two of them pretended to ignore the double double entrendre.  
“Ah, just kinda half lay, half sit,” Yohji directed.  
Now Ken was absolutely positive that Yohji was just as nervous as he was. That ‘how do you want me’ had left Ken wide open for some kind of smart-ass remark, but Yohji seemed much more interested suddenly in repositioning his easel. Knowing of his teammate’s unease leveled the playing field and gave Ken a boost of confidence. He climbed on the futon and swung his legs up, then reclined against the pillows. The lamplight was nice and warm.  
“Okay. I need you to turn your head this way, toward the light. That’s right. Now,” Yohji tossed another pillow at him, “prop yourself up more with that, yeah, and then lean a little this way, and bring your arm up like this.” He demonstrated. “And rest your head against the heel of your hand.”  
“Like this?” Ken rested his temple against his hand.  
“Perfect.” Yohji paused. “Now…uh…spread your thighs apart…”  
“Huh?”  
“Just a little. Your knee should be bent…a little more…”  
Ken did as Yohji requested, sliding his foot just a little higher. He could feel the warmth of the lights on his balls now. His cheeks started to heat up and it had nothing to do with the lamps.  
“Good. The point is for you to look natural…relaxed.”  
“It’s not relaxing to spread for you, Yohji.”  
“How often do you sit on your bed with your legs straight out in front of you? That didn’t look natural at all.”  
“I don’t sit around on my bed naked either, so how is this natural?”  
“It’s natural,” Yohji smiled, “because you’ve just made love to a beautiful woman and you’re still naked and totally relaxed. And here…” He moved to his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He went to the side of the futon and tucked one of the cigarettes in between the fingers of the hand Ken was holding against his head. He stood back and nodded with satisfaction.  
“I don’t smoke either,” Ken quipped.  
“Well, you don’t make love to beautiful women, but we can pretend, right?” Yohji smirked.  
Ken made a face.  
“Are you comfortable? Think you can stay that way for a while?”  
Ken started to nod, reconsidered any change in position and said, “Yes.”  
Yohji started to do mysterious, presumably artistic things behind the easel. Ken was surprised to find that he was relaxed. It might have been the drinks, but part of it was certainly that Yohji was treating the situation quite seriously.  
Was this what the woman had felt like? She and Yohji had talked quite a bit, though, and then afterward…well, maybe afterward Yohji would buy him a drink.  
After about 15 minutes had passed in silence, Yohji asked, “You still comfy?”  
“Mmm hmmm.”  
Glancing back and forth between Ken and the canvas, Yohji mumbled something.  
“Huh?” Ken prompted.  
“You look really good. Even great. You look great.”  
The comment startled Ken. Strange how he could accept praise so readily for his performance—a blocked goal, a clean kill—and yet compliments about his appearance would leave him embarrassed. He tried to remember anyone calling him good-looking before and couldn’t. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was that it was coming from his male teammate. He watched Yohji but the other man didn’t seem to be thinking about what he was saying.  
“Your skin is pretty tan, so I can go with some nice warm colors. Not like I did for Yuki. She was pale and I used lots of cooler tones, jewel colors, and that was nice. You’re more earthy. And you’re in really good shape. After I’ve gotten further, I’m going to wet you down so I can really capture the definition of your muscles. You’ve even got a nice looking dick—“  
“Yohji!” Ken felt mortification start to pierce his alcohol shield.  
Yohji grinned. “Hey, not every guy has a dick that’s gonna look good in a painting. You want people to look at the finished piece and say, ‘I can really relate to this,’ not ‘Oh, christ look at that wang!’”  
“No one is supposed to look at it at all!”  
“Well, they will! And you also don’t want to have guys looking at it and feeling inferior, but you also don’t want to make a bad showing for guys everywhere, so size matters here, too.” He glanced over at his horrified model and added, “Your dick is just the right size.”  
“I hope you’re a fast painter, Yohji, because I ain’t coming back here again.”  
“Sorry. Would you rather we didn’t talk?”  
“The talking’s okay, but let’s change the subject.”  
The conversation lagged at that point. Yohji tried to make small talk about soccer, but he didn’t know the game and Ken wasn’t in any kind of mood to indulge his ignorance. His mind kept going back to Yohji commenting so matter-of-factly on the size of his penis. After another 30 minutes, Yohji set his brushes aside.  
“What are you doing?” Ken asked as Yohji picked up a flower mister.  
“I’m going to get you a little wet,” he explained as he started to spray the water onto Ken’s chest and abdomen. “It’s oil. This will highlight your muscles and bones.” He squirted from Ken’s feet up to his penis.  
“Hey, I thought you said—“  
“That’s because you just had sex, remember?”  
“Oh yeah, the beautiful woman.”  
“So don’t look so uptight. You remember what it’s like, right? Those languid, introspective, after-sex moments?”  
Ken’s expression didn’t lighten.  
“No? So when was the last time you got any?”  
“When did you?” Ken shot back.  
Yohji smiled and his gaze at the canvas became unfocused. It was obvious that the memories were fresh and welcome. “Well, now that you ask…”  
Ken remembered Yohji’s last encounter as well. The man had been energetic, but he’d also blocked most of the view with his bony back side. There was that one moment, though, when he’d moved to the end of the couch to present his erection for some oral attention and Yuki’s fine body was laid bare for the viewing pleasure of the spies, Omi and Ken. Yuki had not been shy, that was apparent as she began to pleasure herself as she pleasured Yohji. Ken’s mouth turned up a bit in a smirk.  
It had been surreal to sit there at the computer and get so turned on. To have actually noticed Omi’s erection. What a strange turn on it had been to jerk off that night knowing that Omi was surely doing the same thing for the same reason in the room across the hall.  
“Uh…Ken?”  
Pulled from his thoughts, Ken glanced up at Yohji. Yohji, however was looking pointedly at Ken’s groin. Ken felt the blood pumping there before he looked down and confirmed his worst nightmare. His penis had finally answered the call of his libido. It was not at full attention yet, but it was on its way.  
“Oh shit.” He quickly covered himself with both hands, the prop cigarette still wedged between two fingers.  
“What were you thinking about?” Yohji said, a teasing lilt to his voice.  
“I’d think that would be obvious!”  
Yohji laughed softly. “Don’t be embarrassed. I can still paint.”  
“Maybe you can, but I can’t…No. Not while I’m…I’m…like this,” Ken muttered.  
“It’ll go away in a second.”  
“No it won’t.”  
“Think of….soccer.”  
“That won’t work.”  
“No? It always works for me. Ah, Momoe-san?” Yohji asked with a shrewd glint in his eye.  
“That’s disgusting!” Ken exclaimed. But he looked down hopefully, lifting his hands, only to look back up miserably. Unconsciously, he’d started to press his hands against his warm, pulsing flesh. Horrified, he raised his hands a little, holding them as a shield instead. “This just isn’t going to work. It’s just been too damn long since I…well, you know…” Ken didn’t think he could be any more ruined than he was at that moment.  
Without missing a beat, Yohji grabbed the mister again from the box of supplies on the floor and moved to the bedside. “I’ve got a sure fire remedy for that.”  
“You do?”  
“Sure. Hold out your hand.”  
Ken proffered the one with the cigarette. Yohji took the smoke and turned Ken’s hand palm up. He sprayed enough oil into his hand to form a puddle. “What’s this?”  
“Vegetable oil. Rub it on your dick.”  
Confused, Ken replied, “Yohji, rubbing something oily all over my dick isn’t going to get rid of a boner.”  
“Oh, but it will if you rub it fast and hard enough,” Yohji replied with a wink.  
Ken’s mouth fell open. “You’re not serious!”  
Yohji shrugged. “We’ve only been at this an hour. The room’s expensive and I don’t want to waste the rest of the night. Would you feel better if I left the room for a few minutes?” He lit the cigarette he’d taken from Ken.  
“You are serious!”  
“But then where would I go?” he mused. “I’d look funny just standing outside the door.” Expelling a long stream of smoke, he nodded. “It’s okay. I can stay. I really don’t mind.”  
“I do! I can’t do it while you’re in here,” Ken croaked. It was as if his body was betraying him at every turn. Yohji’s matter of fact invitation to masturbate in front of him was like a sexual battering ram against Ken’s already taxed restraint.  
But Yohji seemed to ignore him. He picked up his brush again and went back to work on the canvas. “Go ahead, Ken. I’m can do some background work here.” He looked back over at Ken, his gaze rather intent, almost predatory. “And this may just work out better. After you come, you’ll have just the look I want.”  
Ken could only stare in disbelief. This was so bizarre! It was so unexpected! It was…he felt something run down the inside of his thigh and realized that his hand was tilting and the oil was leaking. Reflexes took over and he quickly brought palm and the remaining oil to his aroused flesh. Habit had his hand closing about the shaft, and the sensation of slickness, enhancing the skin to skin contact set Ken on the runaway train of debauchery. I just can’t do this, he thought, even as his will crumbled against an onslaught of need that caused his hips to rock. His eyes rolled back in his head just as his eyelids fluttered shut. Dropping his head back against the pillows, he felt his world close in tight, focused entirely upon the instinctive movements that would achieve that brief, sweet tumble into ecstasy.  
From base to tip, his oily hand slid up and down. At the end of each stroke, his thumb would slip over the head of his eager, aching cock. He cupped his balls with his other hand, rolling and squeezing them gently. It was going to happen fast, he knew, and it was going to be good. It had been so long….!  
Faster, faster, then slow, then fast again. His mind flashed images of Yohji standing over Yuki, of Yuki’s fingers working their own magic between her thighs, of Omi laying a casual hand over the bulge in his pants, of Yohji crawling between Yuki’s legs and thrusting, thrusting, straining, arching, crying out…  
Ken tumbled over the precipice, quivering muscles tightening, streaks of electric pleasure racing along his nerve endings. Though his mouth was open and his breaths coming in short pants, he knew the strangled sound fading away was not coming from him. His muscles relaxed, and his body went limp. He still held his twitching cock, feeling slickness in his hand that was more semen now than oil. His senses began to return, but decorum had fallen victim to lust. In his post-climax lethargy, Ken could only manage to open his eyes and dazedly look for Yohji.  
His teammate was clinging to his easel, one hand gripping the top of the wood frame, his other hand cupping the swelling in the front of his tight, faded jeans, clenching and unclenching. His face was beaded with sweat, and though his eyes were on Ken, they seemed to stare right through him. The strangled cry had indeed come from Yohji.  
Slowly, Yohji’s eyes focused and locked with Ken’s. “Well,” he breathed heavily, “it seems that I can’t be as detached as an artist should be.” A slight, sheepish smile played at the corners of his mouth.  
Ken released his breath. Had he been holding it? “You, too?”  
Yohji glanced down at his hand as he smoothed it down over his zipper a couple of times. Ken noted that the other man was blushing hard. “Shit,” Yohji looked back up at Ken, seeing that he was releasing his now limp member and making as if to find some way to clean up. “No!” Yohji ordered. “Don’t do anything. Just put your arm back up on the pillow and relax.”  
Ken was stuck in the afterglow and it seemed much easier to do as he was told. He let his head fall back and turned it toward the light again.  
“You’re perfect. Just stay like that.” Yohji picked his brush up off the floor and went to work on the canvas.  
As the glow faded, Ken managed a sidelong glance at Yohji. After an hour had passed, he grew tired of holding the one position. He closed his eyes and dozed.  
When he felt a hand shaking his shoulder, he woke to find that he was covered with a sheet and Yohji was standing over him. “What time is it?”  
“Midnight. We’re done for the night.”  
Ken rubbed his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. “I can go?”  
“Sure.” Yohji cleared his throat and said, “We’ll come back tomorrow. I think another couple hours will do it.”  
Ken felt the hairs on his stomach pulling and he remembered suddenly all that happened. “Oh…Uh, Yohji?”  
“Yeah?”  
“What happened here…it’ll stay between us, right?”  
Yohji nodded, looking relieved. With a wry tone of voice, he said, “That goes without saying.”  
Ken walked around to look at the canvas. It was definitely surreal to look at the erotic image taking shape on the canvas. He saw now that the knee needed to be raised, that Yohji was right about that. Though he was a bit surprised at how large his penis looked to Yohji’s point of view, what drew his eyes finally was the expression on his face. He looked…sated…and almost…beautiful. “I look…pretty content,” Ken remarked.  
“It’s like method acting. I think that’s why it looks so truthful. You actually had the sex that the painting will imply.” Yohji sounded content himself.  
“But so did you.”  
Yohji snorted. “Yeah. Wild, isn’t it?”  
“Did you have sex with your other model?” Ken wondered if Yohji would be honest about it.  
“Yeah, afterwards.” Yohji looked over to study the way wet tendrils of Ken’s hair was stuck to his temple and forehead. “Why?”  
“Maybe you’re just used to having sex when you’re painting.”  
“That’s an interesting theory. But I don’t think so. I painted the Seven, you know. That didn’t get me hot.”  
“But I did?” Ken watched a slight frown passed over Yohji’s face.  
“Guess so. I mean, you should see yourself. You’re fucking great to look at.”  
“How many live models have you done?”  
“Just you and Yuki.”  
“So far, you’ve had sex with all your live models.”  
Yohji blurted, “Hey, I don’t count what just happened as having sex with you, Ken. Do you?”  
“I don’t know what else you can call it.”  
“Could be I just got carried away with the moment. Hey, it’s been a while for me, too. Yuki was a couple of weeks ago.”  
+++++  
The following night, Ken didn’t know what to expect. He found himself obsessing on what had happened. He was a little surprised at how easy and open Yohji had been about the sex, both watching Ken and admitting to getting off himself. Yet, it didn’t seem so totally out of character for Yohji. As Ken had told Omi, Yohji was just more worldly than they were, more experienced.  
What was the most surprising to Ken is that he actually jerked himself off with an audience. A guy, for that matter, and his teammate on top of that! He could try to justify it by blaming the alcohol, or his unfortunate abstinence, but it was frightening to think of just how easily he could be manipulated by his natural drive for sex.  
Yet…hadn’t he toyed with the idea that night in Omi’s room? When the teenager had placed his hand in his lap to hide his excitement, and Ken had taken it as a sign that he should leave, before he fled to his room to masturbate, hadn’t Ken teased himself with the idea of doing it right there with Omi?  
Maybe he could have considered it one way of helping Omi to become comfortable with his sexuality, but who would he have been kidding? Imagining him and Omi doing that had helped get him off that night.  
I need another drink, Ken thought as he climbed the stairs to the second floor of the Ten Wonton again. It seemed like too much revelation to understand in one night. Mentally bemoaning the fact that he’d decided to forego the alcohol in case it had in some way removed some unknown inhibitions, Ken stopped before the studio door. He unlocked it and went inside.  
There he found Yohji again. This time the easel was set up, the lights were on and the artist was seated on the floor under the window, smoking. “Oi, Ken, are you ready?”  
“Guess so.” Ken left his helmet on the floor by the door and started to strip. He didn’t wait by the chair. Instead, he walked over to look at the canvas while unbuttoning his shirt. The painting was really good, he marveled. The man in the painting was arrayed in a boneless sprawl on the bed. His face was ruddy, as if from exertion, but peaceful. Ken noted the sheen on the slightly parted lips, the shadows under the eyelashes that framed dark, staring eyes. His body was hard muscle in the arms and legs, but softer looking in the thighs and stomach. His penis lay in glistening, post-coital tumescence against one thigh.  
Standing there with his shirt hanging from one hand, Ken looked over at Yohji who was waiting expectantly for a comment on his work. “It looks like…sex,” Ken finally managed to say.  
Yohji got up and moved behind him, staring over his shoulder at the canvas. “Yep. It sure took me by surprise.”  
Ken looked back at the painting and shook his head. “I must be some kind of exhibitionist.”  
Grinning, Yohji nodded, “Then start some more exhibiting!”  
Ken found that he wasn’t nearly as self-conscious about posing this time as before. After all, what could be more embarrassing than getting a boner during a modeling session? But he was still uneasy, tense, and he didn’t know why. He lay back on the bed, trying to remember just how he had been positioned before.  
“There, that’s good,” Yohji encouraged him. “Maybe lift your knee a little bit—no—the other knee. Yes, that’s the way.” Yohji picked up his brush, but didn’t start to paint. He frowned a little. “You look nervous…try to relax.”  
“Okay.” Ken tried taking a deep breath, but it seemed the more he tried to relax, the more tense his muscles became.  
“Are you worried?” Yohji asked.  
“About what?”  
“Worried that it’ll happen again.”  
“Nah. It won’t.”  
“Are you sure?”  
Ken glanced back up at Yohji. “You sound disappointed.”  
Yohji shrugged, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Maybe a little.” He seemed busy with mixing paints.  
Ken felt his muscles draw up even more. What was Yohji saying? Did he want it to happen again? He looked down at his penis, willing it to stay still. Suddenly Yohji appeared next to the bed.  
“You’re really uptight now, aren’t you?” He dropped the butt of his cigarette on the wooden floor and stubbed it out with his boot. “Can I help? Would you like a massage?” He went so far as to clasp his hand around Ken’s bicep, squeezing hard. “I can’t paint you when you’re like this.”  
The touch was like electricity. Ken started, his eyes very wide. “Massage?” was all he could stammer.  
Yohji shook Ken’s arm. “Look at you! You’re as tight as a drum!” Without asking further permission, Yohji began to knead Ken’s upper arm with both hands. “Try closing your eyes and thinking nice thoughts.”  
“Nice…?” Ken muttered, feeling totally at sea with the memory of the night before crowding his thoughts and a touchy Yohji crowding his personal space.  
“Yeah, nice, as in whatever got you so turned on last night.” As he spoke, Yohji’s hands worked their way up Ken’s shoulder to where it met his neck. One hand landed on the other side so that it appeared he was going to throttle his model.  
In the back of his mind, the memories of last night made room for the pesky notion that Ken should lay Yohji out for touching him like this…for presuming to touch him this way. But the suggestion of what Ken should think about churned up the already muddy waters of his thoughts. I was thinking about him porking that girl…about seeing Omi get a hard on…about that time that Kase…Fuck!  
“I was thinking of those two girls in Omi’s magazine,” Ken blurted out. Back in safe territory, he thought with sweet relief. He actually sighed.  
“Ahhhhh!” Yohji crooned happily. “They were so hot! I’m gonna miss them sitting there on the tea table.”  
Before Ken knew it, he had remembered Omi’s speculation and he asked, “You ever been with two girls at once?”  
Yohji drew back. “What a question!”  
There was something empowering about shocking Yohji. Ken pressed on. “So have you?” He studied Yohji’s face as the other man’s expression went from playful shock to cunning amusement in a scant second.  
“As a matter of fact, yeah. Once. They didn’t do anything together, though, so it wasn’t like the magazine at all. But someday, I will find two girls who’ll let me watch some of that shit.”  
“You will?”  
“Yeah, because I plan to have done everything someday.” Yohji smirked.  
Ken didn’t know what to say to that.  
“That would be great, huh? Two girls?”  
Ken nodded dumbly.  
“I think that would even get Aya turned on.”  
A snort shattered Ken’s dumbness. “Oh I don’t know.”  
“You’re right,” Yohji laughed. “He’s like a rock. He’s not human. What about you? You ever been with two chicks?”  
“Oh right. Like that’s ever gonna happen.”  
“Then what’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?”  
Ken felt his cheeks flaming. He glanced up at Yohji. “Last night.” To his amazement, Yohji blushed bright red, too.  
“Oh, yeah. That was pretty kinky.”  
“I guess you can check that off your list now, huh?”  
Sheepishly, Yohji grinned. “Didn’t actually know it was on my list, but, yeah, I guess so.”  
His hands were very warm now and squeezed and rubbed with strength and sensual slowness. Ken felt the tension draining slowly from his upper body. “What else is on your list?” he asked, his eyes searching Yohji’s face.  
Yohji’s right hand never stopped its languid massage, but the left one slid over Ken’s chest and then down his stomach. “I added something else to my list last night…wanna know what?”  
Ken’s eyes were drawn down to the hand sliding flat over his abdomen. “Y-yeah.”  
“I decided that I’d like to help you recreate that look you had last night.” He moved his hand slightly, back and forth, then down until the tips of his fingers just reached the dark patch of pubic hair.  
Ken felt a thrill course through his body.  
“Will you let me?”  
Tearing his eyes away from that wandering hand, Ken let his head drop back onto the pillow, rolling it toward Yohji. His penis was getting firm and Yohji alternated between watching Ken’s gradual swelling and waiting for his consent. “What’s this leading to, Yohji?” he whispered finally.  
Yohji smiled, even though he was blushing furiously. “To a really, really hot painting, Ken.”  
After hesitating for a long moment, Ken grasped Yohji’s wrist and pushed his hand down to his groin. Without a second’s hesitation, Yohji closed his hand about the firm, hot flesh and squeezed. He felt Yohji’s other hand slide under his shoulders and the mattress dipped a little as he reclined next to Ken. Beginning a gentle stroking, Yohji pressed his cheek against the top of Ken’s head.  
“You’re my first guy, y’know,” he breathed hoarsely.  
Ken wondered if that needed a reply, but the question evaporated as his thoughts were hi-jacked by the sensations between his legs. Without any urging, he let his knees fall to the sides, exposing himself more completely. Yohji took it as an invitation and let go of Ken’s shaft. He cupped the tightening testicles, fondling them.  
“This is getting me hard.” Yohji was sliding his cheek back and forth on top of Ken’s head. “You look damn hot. Tell me what you’re thinking.”  
Ken was thinking how strangely exciting it was to know that Yohji was getting off on this. “Do you fuck all your models?” he whispered in between low grunts. He felt Yohji’s breath hot on his forehead.  
“Not yet. Do you want me to fuck you, Ken?” His hand returned to stroking Ken’s hard cock.  
“Just this…keep doing…this.” Ken started to rock his hips.  
“Okay,” but he let go of Ken for a moment. “Just a second, though.”  
Ken felt the futon shift again and, subsequently, the sound of a zipper. He turned his head toward Yohji, his eyes opened just enough to see the other man reach into his fly and tug his own turgid flesh free.  
“I want to make you come, Ken,” Yohji murmured, his hand once more closing about Ken’s cock. He pulled lazily. “I want to watch you come all over your stomach. And then I want to come on your stomach, too. Is that okay with you? “  
Ken forced his eyes from staring at Yohji’s dick. “You want to…jerk off…in front…of me?” It was almost too much. His excitement was reaching a critical pitch and everything Yohji was suggesting was escalating the matter.  
“Mmm hmmm. I won’t be able to paint. I’m too hard now. If you don’t want me to come on you, I’ll just point somewhere else.”  
As Ken felt a strident climax approaching, he agreed. “I…wanna…watch…ahhh…ahhhhh!” His hips jerked.  
“That’s it! C’mon, Ken, do it!”  
Ken squeezed his eyes shut and let go. Yohji expertly milked every last drop of semen from Ken’s throbbing cock. Little whispers of cool air marked the streamers of come that lay upon his rising and falling stomach. “Ah, gaaaah….” He groaned.  
“Shit, that was fine!” Yohji’s arm slid from beneath Ken’s shoulders and the mattress dipped. The light from above vanished as he threw one knee over Ken’s thighs, tugged his jeans down a little and grabbed his own stiff cock.  
Ken just lay bonelessly and watched. Yohji’s eyes were dilated, his mouth was slightly open and he was working his cock like a man on a mission. “Shit,” he muttered again, “aw shit!” The futon rocked and Yohji grunted. He pointed his spurting cock at Ken’s navel, laying more streamers of come on top of the soft fuzz of his stomach.  
Ken was roused enough to study Yohji’s face. His eyes were glazed and his mouth still slightly open. He panted softly as he tugged slowly on his softening sex. “God, we’re depraved,” Ken sighed. He smiled a little as Yohji’s eyes focused.  
Yohji smiled back, a little of his self-assurance returning. “Fuckin’ a.” He tucked his penis back into his pants, tugging them up. Then he swung his leg over and climbed off the wooden platform. “You just relax now and I’ll finish this painting. You look totally fucked now.”  
“Well, not totally…” Ken retorted, a trace of giddiness in his voice.  
“That’s it…give me ideas,” Yohji teased in return. “Gotta start writing this stuff down.”  
+++++  
Ken drifted off again, only to wake in a darkened room all alone. He checked his watch. It had been ten hours since he arrived. Not only was Yohji gone, but so were all traces of his work. No easel, no paints, nothing. Slightly jarred, Ken got out of bed and found his clothes on a chair. He bent over slightly to put on his underwear and felt the stiff tug of the hair on his belly. Bemused, he looked down, expecting the nothing more than dried semen, but finding paint instead. “My room,” it read.  
+++++  
As he entered the apartment in the early morning hours, Ken tried to reconcile himself with the way this could change his relationship with Yohji. Even if this was an isolated incident, it did add a new dimension, a new connection between them. Surprisingly, Ken didn’t mind. It was as if they would now be friends, not merely teammates. Close, the way he missed being close with someone since losing Kase the first time. He and Yohji now shared a secret.  
At least, this was how he felt about it. There was no way to tell how Yohji would view it.

Ken tapped on Yohji’s door.  
“C’mon in.”  
Ken closed the door behind him. “You’re still up?”  
Yohji was sitting on the sofa, smoking in the dark. “Yeah. Hit the light, will ya?”  
Ken flipped the wall switch and saw that the painting was displayed on an easel in the center of the room. Yohji rose and joined him as he took in the finished product. It was amazing, Ken thought. “It’s really, really good, Yohji. I bet you’ll get the highest grade.”  
A stream of smoke shot from Yohji’s pursed lips. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”  
“Huh?”  
Yohji looked at Ken and smiled. “I don’t think I can share it with anyone. It’s gotten a little too…personal for me.”  
Their eyes met. Ken felt at a loss as to how he should respond.  
“Shall we burn it together?”  
“You sure?”  
Yohji nodded. “Yeah. This should stay between us. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, though…”  
Ken raised an eyebrow, a silent question.  
“…and you can take that however you like.”  
They broke the frame and pushed the canvas into a metal waste bin. Yohji handed Ken his lighter and Ken set the fabric ablaze. Yohji opened a window, then joined Ken to watch the flames.  
“Remember that list of mine?” he asked as the fire began to die.  
“The list…oh, yeah. What about it?”  
“There’s something I should have been able to check off after tonight.”  
Ken grinned. “Do I want to know?”  
Yohji smiled. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Ken’s.  
It was a shock to Ken, coming out of the blue and not being initiated on the crest of sexual arousal. But he allowed it, and even turned his head into it a little.  
Separating, Yohji whispered, “Thank you.”  
This must look---Ken jerked his head back, eyes going wide. “I gotta go!” He flew out of Yohji’s room and into his own. Yohji’s curious voice called after him. With the door firmly shut behind him, Ken gasped and doubled over. Omi’s surveillance! How could he have forgotten?!  
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” How much could Omi have seen? Possibly nothing, he realized as he began to think it through. After all, Yohji probably hadn’t even gotten home till very late, and if Omi saw him and knew he was alone, he might not have even bothered to check the cameras.  
But if he did? Ken opened his door a crack and checked to see if Yohji’s door was shut. He slipped back into the hall and across to Omi’s door. Pressing his ear to the door, he strained to hear any type of movement. He took a deep breath, about to exhale in relief when the door pulled away suddenly and he found himself stumbling into his younger teammate’s room.  
“Ah hah!” Omi was eye to eye with Ken as he recovered his balance. “At first I was just surprised. You posed nude!”  
“Wait! Don’t jump to conclusions! He’s really painting for school credit! Honest!” Ken’s mind was racing. How could he explain this to Omi? Should he even have to? Yohji was a teammate, after all, not an enemy. “I didn’t want to! He made me do it…he bribed me with a painting…”  
“The girl?”  
“No, superbikes. You should see it, Omi, it’s awesome. Well, what could I do? He asked me as a favor…and he’s…he’s very persuasive. Ummm, you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” he pleaded.  
Omi had adopted his best poker face. “Why’d you burn it then?”  
“Wouldn’t you?!”  
“But how can he get credit for it?”  
“Ah, he did it as a favor to me. Didn’t want me to be embarrassed.”  
“He’s such a pervert, Ken, he painted, well, he painted spunk on your stomach.”  
“He—He did? That bastard!”  
Omi gave him a speculative look. Ken cringed inwardly, feeling the hairs on his stomach still pulling with that same spunk and oil paint. Too late! He must have slipped up because Omi’s hand shot out and pulled up his shirt.  
Ken deflected the grab, but not before Omi could read the message. “Omi, you little shit, please!”  
“My room! Did Yohji write that? So he wanted you to come back to his room! To show you the painting? Then to burn it? And then he kissed you!” Omi’s eyes narrowed as he repeated, “He kissed you!” Omi was latching onto evidence just like a prosecuting attorney pitbull. “Just for posing nude? He said it was too personal. What did you guys do?”  
Ken felt his cheeks starting to flame and knew that this was going downhill fast.  
“I don’t want to know, do I?” Omi’s curiosity was started to wane.  
“What are you guys arguing about?”  
Ken and Omi turned around and saw Yohji standing in the doorway. He had one hand on the door knob and his expression was slightly bemused. Ken didn’t know how this could get any worse, but when he looked back at Omi, the youngest member of Weiss had acquired a keenly predatory look.  
“This!” Omi retorted and stepped over to his computer and tapped on the keyboard. The screensaver disappeared and there was a nice, crisp, living-color screenshot of Yohji kissing Ken. Ken felt sick. Omi looked triumphant. But Yohji…  
“Omi, do you have a camera in my room?” he inquired in the calmest manner Ken could have imagined.  
Omi didn’t reply, but his smirk widened. No doubt he sensed victory.  
“Okay. And how long has it been there?”  
A couple more keystrokes and Yuki appeared on the screen, with Yohji helping her to pose. The video played on and Yohji gawked at it.  
“You…You have this on video?” He looked over at Omi. “Everything?”  
“Everything!” Omi snapped.  
Yohji turned back to the screen, watching in silence as his image moved back out of the picture. Ken felt the silence grow thick.  
“So, you have videos of me doing her later?” Yohji finally spoke. He didn’t appear to believe his own eyes.  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Is there sound?” Yohji asked.  
Omi appeared startled and then recovered quickly. “Y-yes.”  
Yohji leveled a stare at the youngest member of his team. “Can I have a copy?”  
“What?” Omi squeaked.  
“Just a second,” Yohji reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. From within, he pulled a piece of paper, opened it and then picked up a pen from Omi’s computer desk.  
“What are you doing?”  
Yohji made a mark on the paper, looked up and grinned. “Just checking something off my list.” Then he winked at Ken. ”Seriously, Omi, can I have a copy? Preferably on dvd ‘cause how else would I be able to play it. Oh, and do you need any blank dvds?”  
Ken wondered if he looked half as stunned as Omi. Omi’s mouth was hanging half open.  
Taking Omi’s silence as assent, Yohji continued, “Uh, okay, I’ll pick some up tomorrow just in case.” He grinned again and shook his head. “You’ve really graduated from magazines, Omi-kun. I’m impressed!” Yohji slipped back out into the hall, but then paused and stuck his head back in. “Umm, you know, maybe this ought to stay just between us.” He inclined his head toward the screen which sill featured a posing Yuki. “We don’t want to embarrass her. But it’s probably okay to show Aya. Good night.” And with that he was gone, his light footsteps echoing in the hall until he reached his room and softly closed the door.  
Omi finally managed to close his mouth, though he still stared at the door, dumbfounded. He glanced over at Ken. “He never asked me to remove the camera.”  
Ken opened his mouth, scrambling for something plausible to explain away the kiss, “Well, you see how he—“  
But Omi stalled him by holding up his hand. “It’s okay, Ken-kun. You don’t need to explain. If it’s…well, if he…Oh, I give up!”  
Ken watched as Omi sat down at his computer and ‘accidentally’ deleted the video, muttering, “It’s as if he wants me to watch him. I’ll be lucky if my little soldier ever salutes again.”  
Ken breathed a silent sigh of relief as the ‘kiss’ screenshot disappeared, too. Later, as he crawled into bed, Ken noticed the superbike in oil. He couldn’t suppress a wave of hilarity that rose from the pit of his stomach. I’m so depraved, he thought giddily and pulled the covers over his head.  
In the end, though, Omi had his revenge. Ken woke the next morning to Yohji’s anquished cry: “You ‘accidentally’ WHAT?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the inconsistent formatting. I'm working on it.


End file.
